


it's golden (like daylight)

by aprilcotdream



Series: intimacy (just you and me) [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Baking, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Getting Together, M/M, Metaphors, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilcotdream/pseuds/aprilcotdream
Summary: This was Seungkwan, the Seungkwan that was determined to get the same fucked-up hairstyle as second grade Hansol just to make him feel better, the Seungkwan that helped him with every math exercise since fifth grade, the Seungkwan that memorize Hansol's endless allergies and refused too many hangouts just because Hansol couldn't go, the Seungkwan that was his friend, since the dawn of the universe.And so he said,"I think I love you, Seungkwan."alternatively: Hansol baked a cake for Seungkwan's birthday.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Series: intimacy (just you and me) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169696
Comments: 14
Kudos: 108





	it's golden (like daylight)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Taylor Swift's Daylight.
> 
> Check out beautiful art cover by my_hearthurts [here!](https://twitter.com/my_hearthurts/status/1368750098994368520)

Chwe Hansol Vernon hadn't baked once in his life.

Cooking was okay, to an extent, but baking was never his thing. The carefully-measured ingredients, the exact timing, all of these intricate steps had not excited him once.

Yet, he was here, trying to prepare the ingredients for Seungkwan's orange birthday cake.

He wasn't sure why he chose an orange cake, didn't know why he wanted to bake a cake instead of buying one and gifting Seungkwan something else like usual, but one thing he was certain of was how  _ long _ and complicated the recipe was.

The preparing section alone was already overwhelming for Hansol, and he wondered if he could finish the cake in time, before Seungkwan came home from his birthday celebration with his colleagues.

But, it was Seungkwan he was preparing the cake for, Seungkwan who had traces all over Hansol, from the headphones the older had bought for Hansol's birthday, the pink sweater Hansol stole from his laundry load, to the stickers he designed on Hansol's phone, displaying proudly for the whole world to see; Seungkwan who was his best friend, who he was willing to even pick stars from the shimmering sky for, let alone baking a cake.

And so, Hansol had prepared all the ingredients: plain flour, unsalted butter, castor sugar, baking powder, eggs, salt, ripe oranges that took Hansol way too much time to choose, and even a digital weighing scale Hansol had borrowed from Mingyu after hours of begging. Now, the important thing is  _ using _ them.

First, he took the butter from the refrigerator and run the knife down, slicing the slippery butter, as gently as the way Seungkwan's gaze pierce through him. He put it in a bowl and set it aside, waiting for the kitchen's warmth to make the butter soften like melting snow in spring.

Then, oranges. Hansol wanted to use Jeju tangerines - the one that reminded Seungkwan of  _ home _ instead, but they were so expensive for a broke post-grad producer. So he opted for ripe oranges, the kind that Seungkwan would use to make a glass of refreshing tanginess during summer. Even the zest of the citrus fruit reminds him of the season, of bright, sunny days when they wore almost nothing, lying together with the air-conditioner on full blast, slowly sipping orange juice. Grating oranges are not easy, though. He had to grate them as carefully as how Seungkwan held his hands, in order to get only the brightly-coloured zest and not bitter white pith. After that, he ran the knife through the zest again, mincing it finely, because he sure didn't want chunky pieces in his cake. Finally, fifteen minutes Hansol had spent went to success, and now he looked happily at the orange zest in the bowl in front of him.

Set that aside, and he continued with squeezing the oranges' juice. It wasn't hard, mostly because of the times Hansol tried to make Seungkwan feel better after a rough day in the office by a glass of orange juice. Hansol's clumsy fingers still made a few drops of the bitter oil got in, but Seungkwan happily drank it all down in one gulp, and Hansol was sure he could make three thousand glasses more if the older liked. And now, as he was baking Seungkwan's birthday cake, he took his time. The sweet, sweet juice was squeezed easily even though Hansol's hands were careful and delicate. Two minutes or three, and Hansol's done with the preparation process.

_ This is surprisingly easy, _ Hansol thought, putting the soft butter and castor sugar in a bowl.  _ Maybe this can turn out better than I thought. _

Smiling softly as the image of Seungkwan grinning all happily popped into his mind, Hansol put the bowl in the mixer. He hadn't tried this before, since Seungkwan did most of their  _ complicated _ cooking, and mixing was the  _ crucial _ part, so saying he was nervous was an understatement. But this was for Seungkwan who protected Hansol from all the bullies in middle school, Seungkwan who was determined to get another job to pay for the apartment, Seungkwan who was absolutely fearless. And so Hansol inhaled, and turned the mixer on.

It started out slow as first, then faster, and faster, until all the butter and sugar were transformed into a white fluffy mass, The mixture rose, light and creamy, and pride rose in Hansol's mind too.  _ Isn't it fun, baking as a language of love? _

_ I could do this again, _ Hansol thought,  _ making all this sugar and butter and orange and flour into a birthday cake, into a declaration of my own fondness. I could do this again, venturing out of my comfort zone and trying my best for Seungkwan, just like he always did for me. _

_ I could do this again. _

A shaky exhale, then the crack of an egg. Into the mixture.

_ I could love Seungkwan over and over. _

He could love Seungkwan again and again. It was probably in his nature, because he had loved Seungkwan for as long as he can remember. When they were children, dumb and naive, he had loved Seungkwan. When Seungkwan was nothing but soft flesh and exhausted limbs, he had loved him. He had loved Seungkwan, for it was the only thing he was sure of.

Yet sometimes, love couldn't be expressed aloud. Instead of  _ I love you _ and honey kisses and sugar-coated words, Hansol chose longing stares and fleeting touches and gentle smiles, in fear of ruining their friendship.

Because loving your best friend is a dangerous game. One miscalculated step, and that cocktail of hidden feelings and pining and hungers would be revealed, and all that you had known with them would be nothing but crumbles. Hansol knew that, and he was  _ afraid, _ afraid of everything they've built up disappearing, just like how the orange juice dissolved in the merciless circles of the whisk.

But now, as he poured the flour in, as the batter morphed into a combination of orange and white and yellow and Hansol's own tenderness, all the pieces clicked together in Hansol's mind, and he realized, that Seungkwan loved him.

Always had been.

_ Companionship is the longest declaration of love, _ Minghao had muttered that to himself when he saw Hansol's table corner, decorated with several pictures of his family, his friends, and  _ his _ Seungkwan. Hansol didn't get it before, but he understood it now. Perfectly.

Because their love was intimacy, blooming across his ribcage, softly and quietly. Their love was  _ Have you eaten _ questions and watching each other eating in the morning and buying fruits that the other liked.

All those matching outfits, encouraging smiles from across the room and  _ I make a playlist for you _ suddenly made so much sense now. Hansol sprinkled orange zest all over the batter, all gently, like  _ how _ \- how he ruffled Seungkwan's hair.

The batter was in perfect condition now, so Hansol remove the bowl from the mixer, and felt a heavy weight lifting off his own chest. Was this caused by the success of the mixing part, or the realization, Hansol would never know. All he knew is  _ Seungkwan, Seungkwan, Seungkwan, _ and so he  _ carefully, _ so carefully placed a well-oiled baking paper in the cake tin, meticulously poured the batter in. Then, he smoothed all of that with a spatula, and even tapped the tin for a few times to remove the air bubbles.

He hadn't done all of these intricate steps before, but he would, for Seungkwan.

Finally, the tin was put into the oven, and the temperature was set.

Hansol sighed.  _ The sun was a little too golden today, _ he thought,  _ such a lovely tangerine yellow. _

—

Taylor Swift's  _ Daylight _ was playing on the cheap speaker and Hansol was struggling to take out the cake out of the tin when the door clicked open, and honey filled the air:

"Nonie, I'm home."

He tried his best not to panic and drop his cake right now, but it was  _ hard. _ Because, in here, Hansol could hear Seungkwan moving around, heading to the kitchen in quick steps, excited bare feet on the cheap wood.

"Boo, don't come to the kitchen!" Hansol screamed out, and felt his cheeks heat up, embarrassingly, like Seungkwan was the summer sun. The cake tin was already upside down on their red chopping board, but hadn't come out yet. He took in a long breath, and pushed it gently again.

Luckily, the cake popped out instantly. Hansol removed the baking paper around it, and saw Seungkwan, tearing up, next to him.

Panic flooded him right there and then, all awkward hands trying to wipe wet cheeks and tumbling words: "Don't cry, Boo, don't cry, Seungkwan, I'm sorry-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned in the soft brown of Seungkwan's eyes, and any remnants of his anxiety transformed into something else when Seungkwan leaned in a little too close, pink lips whispering:

_ "Can I kiss you, Nonie?" _

Hansol's reasoning went outside of the window, and he could only nod dumbly. As their lips met, too yearningly, too gently, Hansol thought, that there weren't any colourful fireworks, nor burning inferno. But there were orange blossoms blooming in his ribcages and light at his fingertips, and the world was colored golden: golden hair, golden light, golden joy, golden  _ Seungkwan _ .

The kiss didn't last long, but both of their cheeks were rose-blush pink when they pulled back, and their fingertips were intertwined in each other's clothes, too shy to  _ touch _ .

But the way Seungkwan hid from his glaze made Hansol a little lightheaded, and even though Hansol was a firm believer of not saying  _ I love you _ too many times because it would ruin the meaning behind it, he made an exception this time.

Because this was Seungkwan, the Seungkwan that was determined to get the same fucked-up hairstyle as second grade Hansol just to make him feel better, the Seungkwan that helped him with every math exercise since fifth grade, the Seungkwan that memorize Hansol's endless allergies and refused too many hangouts just because Hansol couldn't go. the Seungkwan that was his friend, since the dawn of the universe.

And so he said,

" _ I think I love you, Seungkwan." _

"Really?", Seungkwan asked back, eyes wide, making Hansol chuckle, because they just literally  _ kissed. _ The older stared back at him with the cutest pout he had ever seen, and Hansol decided he wouldn't hesitate anymore. Because the endless times when he told Seungkwan that he was beautiful, how he always bought Seungkwan's favorite instant coffee even though he couldn't stand its smell, Seungkwan's playlist on the top of his spotify, his closet filled with things that could be traced back to their origin: Seungkwan's, wouldn't lie.

And thus, his adoration spilled, and spilled, as he whispered, softly, feather-light:

" _ Of course." _

There was a beaming smile on top of Seungkwan's lips now, and when Seungkwan murmured  _ I love you too, Sol, thank you so much _ into his shoulder blades, Hansol thought, that this was how everything should go. Seungkwan and Hansol, together, basking in the twilight glow.

And he leaned down again, petal-soft lips swept against the constellations on Seungkwan's wrist. There were sweet nothings of love being whispered against the older's skin now.

I love you, I love us, I  _ love you . _

Love, love, love,  _ love. _

Hansol leaned in one more time, connecting their lips together.

—

They ate the cake.

Seungkwan declared it was  _ the best thing he had ever eaten in his life _ and showered Hansol in his gratitude, while Hansol just shyly muttered that it was decent. But deep inside, he knew, that he would treasure this. Because in that cake, was all of his feelings, all of his fondness, transferred into castor sugar and plain flour and ripe oranges. He knew, that he would remember this moment: them, sitting together at the dining table, holding hands, soft stares, tender smiles. It was intimacy, it was understanding, it was  _ love. _

_ Lover _ by Taylor Swift started to play, and Hansol laughed, as Seungkwan dramatically stood up, gasping at him: "How do you even know I like this song?"

He shrugged it off with a nonchalant chuckle and feverishly-hot cheeks: "Magic."

It wasn't magic. It was endless hours of scrolling to Taylor Swift's spotify when Seungkwan said she was his favorite artist, listening to all of her discography, letting out a small  _ oh wow _ when this song came, then imagine them; dancing together, just like this, under the dim yellow light. It wasn't magic, Hansol was sure Seungkwan knew that, juding through how his eyes sparkled, how his lips tugged into the most beautiful smile Hansol has ever seen.

But instead of the usual teasing, Seungkwan held out his hands. Pretty, pretty hands that had wiped tears on Hansol's cheeks, had chosen the best gifts for Hansol all those years, had written lyrics together with Hansol back when they were still in music club. And so Hansol took them, gently pressing feathery kisses on Seungkwan's knuckles, then followed the constellations that littered all over his hands. One kiss, two kisses, three kisses, light and tender, soft touches blossoming across the skin. There were red roses blooming on Seungkwan's cheeks too, and Hansol's pride swell at that. He only let go when Seungkwan scoffed, then murmured:

"Dance with me."

In just one tug, Seungkwan had Hansol in his orbit, and Hansol gladly complied.

Following the soft guitar strums and mellow beats, they swayed and swayed under the yellow light. Nothing else mattered now, nothing but  _ them. _

And when the final chorus hit, Seungkwan started to sing to the sappy lyrics, and Hansol couldn't help but mouth along. The song wasn't his favorite, but Seungkwan loved it, and Seungkwan was  _ his _ favorite. Hence the daily listening, hence the words and phrases rolling off his tongue ever so naturally, like he was made for this. Maybe he was, maybe he was made to love Seungkwan.

"You know the lyrics?"

"Of course I do. It's your favorite, after all."

Seungkwan smiled at that, hands going up on Hansol's face, playing with his ears, and Hansol felt his cheeks heat up at the scorching heat of the older's fingertips. Having Seungkwan as a best friend, and now, a _lover,_ was extreme exposure to the summer sun all the time; yet Hansol couldn't get used to _this_ **-** a little touch filled with utmost admiration. His throat was drowning in honey, pushing the words low, and lower, yet, the fondness kept rising and rising. Seungkwan was the sun and Hansol the earth, for how Seungkwan warmed his life, a shining existence that gave him life and love.

But perhaps Seungkwan was also the moon, and Hansol was the waves for how they pushed and pulled, dancing together, for centuries.

Yet maybe Seungkwan was all the celestial bodies mashed into one for how scintillating he was, and Hansol was all that followed, for how he loved Seungkwan so dearly.

One thing for sure was that, when their voices blended into one, when their gaze met, time stopped, and their hearts beat the same rhythm, now and forever.

**Author's Note:**

> happy seungkwan day!
> 
> this was written in a rush and i was really stressed, so it might not be really good. but your comments and criticisms are always welcomed ♡
> 
> scream about verkwan with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/aprilcotdream)


End file.
